


Ask Me Your Questions (Tell Me Your Secrets)

by Jinxter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxter/pseuds/Jinxter
Summary: Canon divergent from when Henry's disappearance was realised; Regina found his browser history that day and set out after him.What could have been.





	Ask Me Your Questions (Tell Me Your Secrets)

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine. Unbeta'd, unedited, etc, because if I pore over it over and over I'll talk myself out of it being even close to postable and it will end up relegated to my word processor history like all the other. It's my first time writing for a while, sorry if I'm a bit rusty. Fuck writers block!

_Cast a spell._

Regina knows she must be at the right door with those mocking words at eye level on the tacky printed decal of scrawled hand-writing blathering on about nothing across the apartment door. She wonders briefly if this was part of the future that Rumplestiltskin could see, and whether he had somehow written this into the curse to torment her.

Twenty-eight years to the day since she cast her last spell, yet here it was, thrown back in her face, on the worst night of her life.

A gulp.

She had many horrible nights, but her tiny son running away from home, running over two hundred miles away from home. Away from her. To the only mother he's ever known, the person who gave him everything. To this woman, who gave him nothing other than her genes. Who gave him away, yet he still chose her. Her failure tastes bitter, her determination to win him back tenses her jaw.

She raises her fist and knocks.

There's a bump from inside, footsteps, then the unlatching of a lock. The door swings open.

The woman isn't like Regina expected. She didn't know what to expect, but with Henry's dark hair and hazel eyes, she didn't expect an attractive blonde with striking green eyes, curls tumbling loosely over her shoulders, and a very form-fitting cerise dress.

"Hello," she says, her eyes curiously scanning Regina's face, "can I help you?"

Regina finds her voice, and with the name on her tongue she tastes a new wave of anger. "Emma Swan?" 

"Yes," she begins, cut off and puffs out a surprised mewl as Regina shoves the door and barges into the apartment.

"Where is he?" She looks around the living area, sparsely furnished but tidy. 

"Who?"

No sign of him in the kitchen or dining area, and she heads towards the door where she presumes the bedrooms and bathroom must be. "Henry."

A firm hand tugs her by the arm. "Lady, if your husband or boyfriend or whatever is cheating on you, I guarantee it isn't with me. I swear. I don't even swing that way."

Regina pulls out of Emma's grasp with a frown. "My son! Not my husband." She checks the other rooms anyway, emerging with a cold chill over her skin and a sinking feeling. The only thing worse than Henry being here, with this woman, is not being here with this woman. Being somewhere else, unknown. "My son, he ran away," she swallows down the tremor in her voice, "to find you."

The blonde woman's slightly amused expression slips away, her posture stiffens slightly and she crosses her arms across her chest. "Why would your kid come to me?"

From the pocket of her wool overcoat she pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to Emma. The younger woman watches her with a raised eyebrow as she unfolds it, then Regina watches pale pink lips part as Emma reads the print-out from the _'Who's Your Momma?'_ website with her name and current address printed on it. 

"If he's not here..." Regina trails off and places a hand over her beating heart.

Curls sway as Emma shakes herself from a daze. "Where are you from?"

Regina stares at her.

"Where did he run away from, I mean."

"Maine."

Emma's eyes widen. "Maine," she exclaims, "holy shit that's far away. Have you called the police?"

Regina tucks her short hair behind her ear. "No, I haven't. I can't," she says, quiet desperation seeping into her words, "it's complicated."

"Fuck complicated, the kid's ten years old! He's--"

"Mom?" They turn to the messy-haired boy standing in the open doorway.

A sob escapes Regina. "Henry," she dashes forward and drops to one knee, her hands on either side of his face, "I was so worried about you."

The boy pulls away, her hands linger in the air for a moment, then her shoulders sag, hands drop, and she stands again with a lick to her lips and cinches her coat tighter as if to keep the emotion trapped inside it.

"You know each other?" He's not looking at his mother but at the other woman, staring back at him uncertainly.

"Uhh, not really. I had the pleasure of meeting her just now when she arrived looking for you. Where have you been, kid?" 

He studies her face then glances at his mother before looking again at the woman he came to meet.  
"You weren't home when I arrived so I went to get pizza and a hot chocolate. You know why I'm here?"

Emma glances at Regina, then at the piece of paper in her hand, now a little crumpled on the corner she was holding it. She tries to flatten it out with her fingers. "Yeah," she hands it to him, "I do."

"You _are_ my mom, then?"

Regina's shoulders stiffen but her surge of frustration stumbles over Emma's chuckle. "No, kid. That," she points to Regina, "is your mom. I gave birth to you, but I'm not... I can't..."

"I need to talk to you." He says to Emma but glares at Regina. "Alone."

Regina takes a step towards him and he takes a counter-step away, so she stops. "Henry," she coaxes, "please..."

"No," he protests, "I'm not leaving until I talk to her alone!"

Emma looks at Regina. "There's a cafe further down on this block, do you want to go and wait there and I'll bring him down to you?"

"Not a chance, Miss Swan," Regina says firmly. "I'm not leaving my son in a stranger's apartment."

With a sigh, Emma steps between the stubborn pair and closes the apartment door. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name," she says.

"Regina Mills," and there's an awkward moment between when her hand automatically reaches out to shake and she remembers who this woman is, and it stalls mid-air.

Emma reaches further and takes the proffered hand, giving it a brief, firm shake. Their eyes lock, Regina's narrowing slightly but Emma's warming. "Nice to actually meet you." Regina's mouth opens wordlessly for a moment before she closes it again and Emma chuckles. "It's okay," she ducks her head, "I understand if you don't feel the same."

"Henry," she says slowly, learning the feel of his name in her mouth, "nice to meet you, too, well, again." His hand is small in hers, cold from the chilly Boston autumn evening air. "Regina, why don't you help yourself to a drink, I have tea, coffee, I think there's a beer or two left, and Henry can ask me whatever he wants to ask me about so that you two can be on your way before it gets too late." 

Regina checks the clock on the wall, it's after nine PM, even if they left now they probably wouldn't get back to Storybrooke before one AM. She pinches the bridge of her nose and nods. Regina watches Henry follow the blonde with a bounce in his step, and he swings the backpack off his back as they enter one of the rooms off the side of the hall. Her stomach drops at the sound of the door snicking closed.

She wants to follow them, to barge in and pick him up, carry him out to the car like she could when he was a toddler and throwing a tantrum. She wants to drive him home and make him forget, somehow, to wind back the clock to before he looked at her with contempt, before he found the adoption papers in her desk drawer, to before when he smiled at her and hugged her tightly like she was his whole world.

A tear escapes, Regina quickly wipes it away. She busies herself filling the coffee maker and finds a directory in the cabinet under the phone. She thumbs through the hotel section looking for somewhere nearby that they could stay. Her adrenaline is beginning to wane, the long, panicked drive to Boston is catching up with her, and as much as she wants to get Henry back to Storybrooke, she can't bring herself to put him in danger by driving through the night to get him there. Tomorrow will have to do.

She's finishing her second cup of coffee when the door opens and Henry emerges. Her heart is buoyed by the fact he doesn't look happy, she hates that it is, but hope flickers that without finding whatever it was he was hoping to find, perhaps he will come back to her.

Emma looks at her over his head, a strange look in her eye and Regina stiffens.

"What did you tell her before I got here," Henry demands.

"I'm sorry?"

He huffs. "She thinks I'm crazy too. What did you tell her?"

"Kid, I don't..."

"Did you tell her about Archie?"

Regina bends to look him in the eye. "No, I didn't."

"Who's Archie?" 

"Let me take you home."

He crosses his arms and Regina watches his expression change. "On one condition." She raises an eyebrow. "Emma comes too."

Regina's mouth opens but it's Emma's voice he hears next. "Whoa, kid, I don't know about that."

He turns his head to face the blonde behind him. "It's the only way. If you don't I'll say that you tracked me down and kidnapped me from Maine." 

"Small problem with that, kid. Your mom's story is the same as mine."

Henry turns back to his mother. "Would it be, Mom? Would you make the cops call Sheriff Graham to confirm your story?" 

His eyes sparkle with mischief and she grits her teeth. His smile widens as her silence lingers and he knows he has her trapped, that she doesn't want any police involvement as he suspected.

Regina stands and tentatively places her hand on Henry's shoulder, and when he doesn't shrug it off she squeezes ever so slightly. She can do this, if she can just get Henry back to town. She can try to lose her on the road, maybe the woman won't find her way into town. And surely if she does, she can manage to show her around for a day or two in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. "Miss Swan, I'm afraid my son takes after me, and once he sets his mind to something there is no stopping him. How would you like an all-expenses-paid vacation to Maine? So we can put this to rest."

Green eyes lock onto her, flick down to Henry's, and are softer when they meet Regina's again. "Sure, what the hell."

Henry fistpumps the air. "Yes! Then you'll believe me!"

Emma looks at her nervously, Regina frowns back. Believe what?

"Come on," she squeezes his shoulder a little more firmly, "let's go find a hotel and--"

His head is already shaking and he pulls away from her. She feels the loss sharply, him having allowed her touch momentarily giving her god forsaken hope that things were getting better. "No, I'm staying here."

Behind him, Emma chuckles and shakes her head. "Kid, just go with your mom, okay? I'll meet up with you in the morning, I promise."

He stares at her. She stares back. Regina watches them both. They all wait. Finally Emma rolls her eyes. "Okay fine, you can both stay here but only if you go to bed now. It's been a long day," she says with a small sigh.

"There's no need for--"

"You can still go to a hotel if you want, Mom."

He says it so casually that the last thing she wants is to be away from him again. "No, it's fine. Thank you, Miss Swan."

"Emma, please," she smiles.

Regina's smile in return is tight, but a smile nonetheless, and a small part of her is grateful. She squashes that part down and clears her throat. 

"How about you two take my bed and I'll take the couch?" Emma is already half way to the bedroom. "Let me just clean up for a sec." She disappears into the room opposite to the one she and Henry had spoken in. 

"So what did you and Emma talk about, sweetie?"

Her son looks up at her suspiciously. "Nothing." He wanders off towards the bedroom.

She sighs. Back to this again.

Emma emerges a minute later, dumps and armful of clothing into the hamper in the bathroom. Eyes glance over the fitted grey dress, exposed by the removal of Regina's overcoat, finally. "Do you need something to sleep in?"

"Yes please," she says grudgingly. Her enthusiasm drops even lower when a bundle of flannel is placed in her hands a moment later. She slowly unravels the crumpled fabric and finds it is a black and grey pyjama set, it's colour scheme the only thing at all to her liking.

It is lying next to Henry that she regrets her decision to stay. With his back to her, curled on the far side of the queen sized bed, she feels more alone than if she were truly alone in a hotel room. She lays on her back and watches in the dim light as his chest rises and falls with every breath. "Goodnight, my little prince," she says, to no reply.

An hour later Regina finds herself still staring at the ceiling. Her eyes are sore but her mind is so full of tumbling thoughts and fears that even when she closes them she ends up staring back at the small spider web that has built his home around the edge of the light fitting without even realising she's opened them again. 

Her mouth is dry and throat scratchy, so she slides out from under the comforter walks quietly out past the spare room, the outline of a weight bench and treadmill just barely visible, and heads to the kitchen. She expects Emma to be fast asleep on the couch but she is sitting upright staring out the large windows at the city lights. She looks around and whispers, "Hey."

"Hey," Regina replies, pausing. "Sorry, I was just going to get some water."

"No problem," Emma says, and resumes staring out the window.

Glass of water in hand, Regina returns. "Can't sleep either," she asks, stepping off the cold tile onto the edge of the rug. 

Emma smiles but she remains tense around her eyes. "Nah. It's not every day your long lost kid shows back up in your life after ten years." She waits a moment then pulls the blanket spread over her lap closer to her and moves closer to the arm. She looks back up at Regina who takes the seat and looks out into the Boston streets with her.

"Did you ever hope he would?"

Emma cocks her head to the side, streetlight and shadows sharpen the angle of her cheek, jaw. "No, not really. I guess... I always hoped he'd be happy enough to not even think about me."

The verbal blow causes Regina to suck in a breath.

Emma's arm is on hers in an instant. "I didn't mean it like that. You love him, I know that, I can see it. And he loves you, even if he's angry, he truly does. But I get it. I don't know my parents and I always wondered. I was miserable for a long time because I never knew why they abandoned me, but he was adopted like I never was and I hoped that was enough so he never felt like I did that to him." Tears shimmer in her eyes and she blinks them away.

"I'm sorry," is out of Regina's mouth before she has a chance to stop it, but something about the surreality of sitting in the dark in a strange apartment with the first non-cursed human being she's met in decades fostered an unfamiliar openness. "I always tried to be enough for him." She realises Emma's hand is still on her arm when she feels a squeeze, conscious, willing affection, and she slides her fingers atop it hoping against all odds it will last.

She has to rein herself in, her exhausted brain and drained emotions craving respite, but she can't allow it to wander into thoughts of somehow staying here, in this moment, never going back to the monotonous little town. Here where Henry could live a normal life among friends who age at the same rate as him, or age at all, where touch doesn't feel like habit and... no. She removes her hand, pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them.

Emma pulls her hand back and fiddles with the blanket's edge. "I'm worried. I just want to take him home with you, and get him settled, and for him to live a happy life, but he wants more from me, doesn't he?" 

Her plan had been the same, but Emma had just voiced the fear she had resisted admitting to herself. "I think so." Panic starts to itch at the edges of her consciousness, the practicalities of somehow keeping Henry happy enough that he won't run away again, keeping Emma distant enough that she won't notice that nothing ever changes. Perhaps any future contact between birth mother and son would have to be outside of Storybrooke.

"You know, it's funny," she smiles, "it's actually my twenty-eighth birthday today and I wished to not be alone anymore. Then you and Henry showed up."

A chill runs down Regina's spine.

"I just don't know what to do with this story he has. You should have seen him when I said I was born in Maine. I mean I don't even know if that's true, I was just found there as a baby, out in the forest all alone. He says it all makes sense and fits in with the book, but this idea he has of who I am, I'm no hero."

Regina looks across, dazed. "Hero?"

Emma shrugs. "His book, you know. The fairy tale one. How he thinks you're the Evil Queen and I'm some hero who has to save everyone from you. That I was put in some magic wardrobe from fairytale land as a baby..." 

The room spins.

Emma laughs, "I've only come out of one closet and it wasn't that one, that's for sure." She looks over at Regina and her smile falls away. "Hey, are you okay?"

Her mouth is watering profusely, her stomach is roiling, and she thinks she may have actually forgotten how to breathe. Hands are on her as she tries to stand, she brushes them away and tries to use the furniture to right herself but the hands are back and the room is still spinning. Then she's kneeling on the floor and dry retching, Emma is holding her hair back and talking to her and she eventually remembers how to breathe, in sharp, desperate gasps.


End file.
